


Sherlock, you could have turned it on when we got back from Barts. I wouldn't have minded.

by Bootsrcool



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Extended Editions, Gen, IFD Challenge, International Fanworks Day 2018, John Ships Sams/Frodo, Pre The Blind Banker, Sherlock is a fanboy, So is John, Talk about the Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings References, They Fanboy over Lord of the Rings, movie marathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 20:37:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13689363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bootsrcool/pseuds/Bootsrcool
Summary: “First, it's Greg,” John stated.“Whos Greg?” Sherlock asked.“Lestrade!” John exclaimed, leaning into the couch. “At least use the man's last name if you refuse to either remember or use his first!” John sighed before continuing. “And second, why are you going to watch Lord of the Rings without me? At half past midnight at that?”





	Sherlock, you could have turned it on when we got back from Barts. I wouldn't have minded.

**Author's Note:**

> First Sherlock Fanfic! Hurray!! Got a few prompt bunnies hopping around me for the last few weeks and I've been writing every one down for later. Gonna finish my Hobbit fics first though!
> 
> Happy International Fanworks Day 2018! Yay!

It started a few weeks after what John was dubbing The Night He Met Sherlock. Alternatively called A Study in Pink. Whichever. It was the same day.

It was halfway through February and John was trying to get some sleep before his flatmate decided to either blow something up or Lestrade called them for help with a case. While Sherlock was definitely more observant than any other bloke on the street, John had to partly agree with the detectives view on Scotland Yards sleuthing skills. They really couldn't solve half the cases they were landed with without Sherlock, it seemed. Not that John was blaming Lestrade, of course. He was only one man. One normal man, that is. Anderson probably contributed to accidentally destroying evidence. He seemed reckless and not looking where he stepped, or even looking where his eyes landed. The former army doctor could see how Sherlock got frustrated.

Anyways, it was getting close to one in the morning when John heard Sherlock moving about in the sitting room. John sighed and pressed his head hard into his pillow with a groan. Just when he was dozing off!

It wasn't a very busy day for them, but they had stopped ver to Barts to look in on a peculiar body that Molly was autopsying on. Two teeth, molars, from the body was removed and found inside the esophagus, but it seemed the teeth were removed post mortem. Sherlock also had to pick up some more body parts for an experiment. 

But instead of the clinking of glass beakers and test tubes, or the sound of his violin, which usually helped John sleep, or get back to sleep after waking from a nightmare, he heard the sound of the telly being switched on and Sherlock flopping down on the couch. John waited a few minutes, listening closely before he heard a familiar tune playing. 

“Really?” John muttered as he stood up from bed and quietly made his way downstairs. He peeked into the sitting room and took in Sherlock in his thinking pose, hands up, fingers steepled with his chin resting on his two forefingers. His eyes were intently staring at the screen where the theme for the Shire played out. “Really.”

Sherlock startled a bit, his pale eyes snapping up to watch John as the doctor walked around the table and sat next to the detective, who scrambled for the remote and pressing pause. “John,” Sherlock started. “You should be in bed. We could get a call from George any time.

“First, it's Greg,” John stated. 

“Whos Greg?” Sherlock asked.

“Lestrade!” John exclaimed, leaning into the couch. “At least use the man's last name if you refuse to either remember or use his first!” John sighed before continuing. “And second, why are you going to watch Lord of the Rings without me? At half past midnight at that?”

For the first time since John moved in, he had the unexpected pleasure of seeing Sherlock blush. The older man observed as the pink flush worked its way down his neck and around to his ears. The doctor found himself curiously wondering how far the blush went.

“So?”

“So…”

“Why are you watching it so late at night? Jesus Sherlock, you could have turned it on when we got back from Barts. I wouldn't have minded.”

“Maybe not, but you might have minded watching all three of the extended versions in a row,” Sherlock said, his cheeks turning darker in the faint light that was thrown across his face from the telly.

John scoffed, standing up and walking into the kitchen. Sherlock sat up on the couch and held himself held stiffly for a few minutes as there was rustling of a bag being opened, then the microwave starting up. A minute and a half later, John came back out with a bowl of popcorn.

“Well, press play!” John said as he sat down, setting the popcorn between them. 

“You are...going to stay?” Sherlock spoke slowly, as if he couldn't comprehend what he was truly seeing.

“Of course! I haven't had a Lord of the Rings marathon in quite a few years.” John replied, nudging Sherlock with the bowl. “Now shut up and eat your popcorn. And press play!”

Sherlock dis as he was told, also a first for John to witness. They relaxed back into the settee while Gandalf and Frodo ride into Hobbiton. When the first movie was over, it was almost half past four thirty. John didn't say anything, just walking back into the kitchen to pop more corn as Sherlock pushed The Two Towers into the DVD player before taking a quick bathroom break. When he came back, John was setting the fresh popcorn on the table and passed the taller man as he made his way into the bathroom. Within five minutes of the first movie ending, the second one was playing.

John and Sherlock stayed up, phones turned off and eyes glued to the telly as they watched Sam and Frodo make their way to Mordor and Legolas and Gimli’s friendship blossom. They didn't talk much except to throw out a comment here or there. When that movie was over, the repeated their actions from four hours ago. Sherlock also pulled the curtains down so the flat would stay dark as the morning light shone through the windows.

It was around noon when the final movie credits began to roll. John stood up and stretched before grinning down at Sherlock. “Fantastic!” Sherlock genuinely smiled back. “Did you hear that The Hobbit will be released at the end of 2012?”

“Of course! Did you read that Guillermo del Toro was directing the movies?” Sherlock scowled. “He had admitted in an interview that he didn't even like hobbits! How can someone who doesn't like hobbits direct a film called The Hobbit!!”

“Yeah, but Jackson will be there to fix it, hopefully. There are rumours that Ian McKellen and Elijah Wood will be coming back to reprise their roles.”

“Yes! It helps that Elijah has somehow found the bloody fountain of youth in the last decade…”

They talk about all things Tolkien and Lord of the Rings for the rest of the day. They barely noticed when mrs. Hudson came up with lunch, or when the Sun was setting or that they hadn't slept for over thirty-six hours until Lestrade came barging into the flat.

“What the hell have you…” The DI takes a few breaths before speaking again. “I couldn't get through to the two of you all day! I thought something had happened, and I find you here, having tea like it's morning and chatting away like love birds who can't tear themselves away for a moment to take a bloody piss!”

“Greg! Has something come up?” John asks, standing up to fetch another tea cup. “You drink tea right? What do you take with it?”

“Wha-?”

“John. He knows where the kettle is. Come back here and continue telling me about Samfro.” Sherlock demanded, shifting so he was more comfortable. John came back with a cup and the kettle anyways, topping off his and the consulting detectives cups.

“What the bleeding hell is samfro?!”

“The shipname for Samwise and Frodo. Now get out if you have nothing to contribute to the conversation.” Sherlock said, gesturing to the door. Greg stared as John started talking again, Sherlock's eyes glued to the shorter man's face. Seeing he wasn't going to get anymore attention, he turned around and walked back out of 221b. Once he was in his car, he pulled out his phone and opened google.

‘What is Samfro?’

**Author's Note:**

> Come check me out on tumblr at Bootsrcool.tumblr.com
> 
>  
> 
> [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/S6S16IZT)


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